


In Another World

by Living_Free



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_Free/pseuds/Living_Free
Summary: I’m here to see the baby,” Dick said happily.Alfred’s eyebrow raised further up onto his forehead. “Master Richard,” he said, “there is no baby here.”“You said there was, though,” Dick pouted. “You said that Bruce took in a baby.”“I said that Master Bruce has taken a child into his care,” Alfred replied. “At no point did I indicate that young Master Jason was an infant. He may, however, appreciate the stuffed bear, which is in fine taste.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For once, the Bats are a Happy (somewhat, when Bruce isn’t being dumb) family.

Dick Grayson walked up the pathway to Wayne Manor, his arms laden with various goodies, including a moderately sized teddy bear. 

Now, we must take note that Dick Grayson was not a man who usually walked around with stuffed animals, barring Zitka the plushie elephant, who was a Goddess amongst toys. The reason that we find Dick Grayson approaching his onetime residence with a teddy bear, a chocolate box, and a lone Robin doll was due to the tattling of one Alfred Pennyworth, blessed be his name. 

In his bi-weekly phone call to the Grayson residence, Alfred had indicated that Bruce had gone and taken in a child. In Dick’s mind, child translated into baby, and Dick Grayson loved babies. He loved babies even more than maintaining a pissing contest with Bruce, and so found himself ringing the doorbell to Wayne Manor, eager to establish himself as Best Big Brother Who Is Considerably Better At Cuddles Than Bruce. 

Dick beamed as Alfred opened the door and let him in, raising a pointed eyebrow at the haul in the young man’s arms.

“I’m here to see the baby,” Dick said happily.

Alfred’s eyebrow raised further up onto his forehead. “Master Richard,” he said, “there is no baby here.”

“You said there was, though,” Dick pouted. “You said that Bruce took in a baby.”

“I said that Master Bruce has taken a child into his care,” Alfred replied. “At no point did I indicate that young Master Jason was an infant. He may, however, appreciate the stuffed bear, which is in fine taste.”

While Dick was pouting, one Jason Peter Todd, the newest resident of Wayne Manor, peeked into the room, and in his everpresent paranoia, managed to thoroughly misread the situation. He ran into Bruce’s study and pointed an accusing finger at him. 

“I knew that you rich people weren’t no good! I saw your sugar baby in the living room and I’ll be damned if I let you bait me into your sick, perverted scheme!” Jason cried, jarring Bruce out of his paperwork. 

After the mini-heart attack that Jason’s fiery entry had caused, Bruce registered his words. “Pervert? Sugar baby? What are you talking about, Jason?”

“I saw him in the living room!” Jason hissed. “He’s sitting there all innocent, ‘cause he doesn’t know that you’re gonna take advantage of him! Well,” he said, puffing out his chest heroically, “I won’t let you!”

Bruce stood up slowly, reeling from the accusations. He ushered a still viciously hissing Jason out, and walked into the living room, where he saw Dick, seated in too-tight jeans, holding a teddy bear and looking for all the world like an angel who had done no wrong in his life, ever.

Bruce begged to differ. 

“Dick.”

Dick spun around and looked at Bruce with wide eyes. “Bruce,” he said evenly, “I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Likewise,” Bruce replied. He looked at the stuffed animal, the chocolates, and the Robin plushie. “You heard about Jason, I see. While I appreciate you taking an active role in his life, I would ask that you bring more age appropriate items.”

Dick pouted. “I thought that you got a baby, and I got excited. Then Alfie told me that he was, like, ten years old.”

“I’m eleven!” Jason declared, and peered out from behind Bruce. For the first time, he made eye contact with Dick. “You Bruce’s kid?”

“Yeah,” Dick answered, raising an eyebrow á la Alfred at Bruce. What had he been telling Jason? “I’m Dick. Nice to meet you,” he said, holding his hand out. Jason eyed the hand warily and stepped out to take it, and Dick saw how truly small and cuddleable he was. This made up for everything. 

“You’re smiling like a loon,” Jason pointed out. “Are you a creeper? ‘Cause I’ll shank ya, I swear!”

Dick laughed. “Oh, I like you,” he grinned. “I, um, got you this,” he said holding out the teddy bear and chocolates for Jason. Jason looked up at Bruce, who was too busy trying to glare a hole through Dick, and opted for taking the chocolates. 

“Thanks, I guess.”

Dick shook the teddy bear. “Don’t you want Mr. Noodles?”

Jason snorted and puffed out his chest in a show of machismo, but snagged the bear nonetheless. “I’m gonna put this in my room. Hey, Alfie,” Jason called, “Dick brought chocolates! Wanna share with me?”

Alfred floated into the room and smiled down at Jason. “Why thank you, Master Jason, how thoughtful of you.”

Dick squealed at the cuteness, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He bent down and without warning, picked Jason up to hug him. “That was so cuuute!” 

“Ack! Lemme go!” Jason cried, “what’re you doing to me!?”

“I’m cuddling my little brother!”

“Ain’t no one cuddled me before!” Jason cried. “Lemme down!”

Dick’s tender heart broke at the thought that no one had cuddled this little boy before. “Cuddles are good,” Dick lectured, “and everyone should have them. Are you telling me that Bruce hasn’t hugged you?”

“No, why should he?” Jason asked, horrified.

“Pfft. Figures,” Dick huffed, and vowed to cuddle more.

Bruce glared harder. “Don’t try and undermine my parenting, Dick.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you showed your kid that you loved him more!”

“Oh, wow, you guys’ve got Issues,” Jason muttered. 

“No, we don’t. I just wish that Bruce would be more demonstrative with his love, and not make it conditional on people obeying his every whim!”

“And I wish that my kids would listen to me when I bench them or tell them to go to college for their own good!” Bruce retorted, to which Dick responded Oh my god, Bruce, I want to be a choreographer, I don’t need to go to college for that, to which Bruce responded, No son of mine is going to shake his booty for a living, to which Dick replied, You’re in no position to tell me what to do after you kicked me out, to which Bruce corrected, I didn’t kick you out, I told you to leave the cave and you took it upon yourself to leave the house!

“Wait, what?” Dick stuttered to a halt. “You...didn’t tell me to leave the house?”

“What? No, of course not! Why would I kick my teenaged son out of the house?” Bruce thundered perplexedly. 

“You told me that you didn’t want me around!”

“As Robin! It was too dangerous! How could I let you into the field when you’d just been shot!? It’s my responsibility to look after you, and your injury was my failing-“

“It’s not all about you!” Dick yelled back. “Robin was mine! And Nightwing is mine! I get to decide what I do with myself, Bruce. You showed me that I could channel my anger for the right reasons, and gave me the tools to do it. Now that I’m on my own, you can’t dictate my life!”

“Yes I can!”

Alfred cleared his throat meaningfully.

“I...can’t?” Bruce said, slower. He turned to Alfred. “He’s my son, why can’t I do what’s best for him?”

“You can absolutely wish for the best for your son, Master Bruce. However, you must recognize that Master Richard is a young man who has shown that he is capable of overcoming the hardest of circumstances, and that all he asks for in return is for your love and efforts to understand him,” Alfred said sagely. 

“Bruce fucked up!” Jason giggled. 

“Language, Master Jason.”

“Bruce messed up!”

“Perfect.”

“I...” Bruce looked lost. “Of course I love you, Dick.”

Dick looked emotional. “Oh, Bruce!”

“Guh. This is way too lovey. I’m out. Yeet,” Jason said, and made to leave, but was sucked up in Dick’s vortex of love.

“Jaybird! You helped reconcile my family! I love you!”

“Ack! Lemme go, Dickface! I didn’t do anything, you just want to cuddle! I’m on to you!”

“Bruce!” Dock cried, and flung himself into his arms, squishing Jason inbetween them. “I’m so sorry that I misunderstood you! I know that you only want what’s best for me!”

“I’m sorry too, Dickie,” Bruce said, “for trying to impose in your life. I’ll always love you. Just...”

“What?”

“Are you sure you want to be a dancer?” Bruce whined. “I wanted to change to company name to Wayne and Sons.”

“Yes, Bruce,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. 

Bruce sighed and relented. “Very well. Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Please polish my shotgun.”

“What!?” Dick cried. 

“I’ll need it for all the lecherous people that are going to lust after you,” Bruce said, patting Dick’s head paternally. When Dick looked ready to object, Alfred cleared his throat.

“Let him have this, Master Dick. At any rate, the gun won’t be loaded - you know of Master Bruce’s stance on firearms. This is largely ceremonial.”

“Oh,” Dick said. “Okay, then.”

Jason watched the entire exchange from Dick’s embrace, and squiggled out of his arms. “I was right. Rich people are crazy.”

“I’m not rich, Jaybird,” Dick said, “I grew up in a caravan.”

“Still. Your daddy is rich.”

“He’s your daddy too, Jay,” Dick reminded Jason lovingly. Bruce beamed. 

Jason stiffened as realization swept over him. In the short month that he had been found trying to jack Batman’s tires, he had been relocated, given shelter, food, and a father figure virtually overnight. Not to mention Alfred. And now, he had a brother. An honest to god brother who was so secure in his masculinity that he went out at night wearing a skintight bodysuit, and talked about cuddles and love within earshot of other human beings. 

“Oh my god, I have a daddy.”

“And me, Little Wing!” Dick squealed, cuddling him again. 

This time, Jason couldn’t quite bring himself to mind.


	2. Chapter 2

The Manor grounds were a large, sprawling, expanse of lush greenery that housed a number of animals. Jason knew this because Dick was currently channeling a Disney Princess, and was talking to a batch of squirrels, who were enraptured by his baby talk, while butterflies nested on top of his head and chirping sparrows flew in circles around him.

If one were to look closely, they might have seen a halo around his head. 

Jason rolled his eyes at his older brother and pointed this out to Bruce, who looked slightly pained. “It’s like they know what he’s saying. Could he be a meta?”

“If he is, he’s got the world’s stupidest power,” Jason snorted. “What’s he gonna do next, shoot rainbows from his ass?”

Bruce continued to look concerned, and went back to the Batcave intending to analyze Dick’s blood again. Jason stayed outside, wanting to amble outside. The grounds were a stark difference from the grey, damp, concrete of Crime Alley, and he intended to make the most of it. He was ambling around the grounds when he saw It.

No, not that It. I know what you were thinking. 

The hedges rustled, and Jason’s breath hitched. Could it be? For months, Jason had thought that he could see a tiny gremlin in the bushes whenever Dick was home. He brought this up to Bruce, who had installed new security systems and ran a perimeter check, but had come up empty. 

Jason looked at Dick stealthily, and saw that he was occupied with taking to some sparrows. He snuck around the corner, and with his new Robin-training, leapt out and grabbed the gremlin. Boy and gremlin tussled for a while, emitting periodic screams of gerroff me! and perverted gnome! until Dick pried them apart. 

“Jason, what’s going on?” Dick asked, dusting him off.

“That gremlin was spying on you from the hedge!” Jason said, pointing in said gremlin’s direction. 

Dick looked down and then smiled. “Jaybird, that’s Tim.”

The grem- no, Tim, looked up at Jason with baleful, pale eyes. “I’m not a gremlin!”

“You’re a gremlin stalker!” Jason maintained. “Why else would you hang around the hedges all the time?”

“Timmy’s our neighbor, Jason,” Dick explained. “He’s Tim Drake, he lives over at the Drake Mansion. Tim,” Dick said kindly, “you don’t need to hang out in the garden. You can come in anytime you want.”

Tim’s eyes brightened when Dick addressed him. “Really, Dick?”

“Of course, Timmy,” Dick smiled, and pinched the boy’s cheek. “I love seeing you, and I miss you when I’m away.”

Tim blushed and hid his face behind his tiny hands before running over and curling himself around Dick’s leg. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

Jason goggled at the spectacle. “Wait, how come you know each other?”

“When Timmy was too small to attend galas, I used to babysit him,” Dick explained. “I became his regular babysitter until I moved to Blüdhaven. He’s a swell boy, Jason, and I bet that you could be the best of friends.”

Jason eyed the tiny boy. “Yeah, sure,” he snorted. “What is he, like, six years old? He’s a baby, Dick.”

“I’m eight!” Tim declared. “And I know lots of grown up things. Mommy says that I’m a prodigy, and mommy knows lots of stuff and she runs a company.”

“Oh yeah? Then what’s the name of the tragic anti-hero in Wuthering Heights,” Jason demanded. 

“Heathcliff! And he could arguably be a villain!”

“He was a product of his circumstances, and he did his utmost to rise above them until he succeeded!” Jason argued. 

“He willfully chose to take actions that were detrimental to innocents in a pointless quest to fuel his grudge! He’s a meanie!” Tim rebutted. 

Jason glared at the boy, only to have it returned with equal intensity. “Fine! Let’s see how you do with Jane Eyre!” He said. 

“You’re on!” Tim squeaked, stomping after Jason into the house, where they would continue their debate in the library. 

That was how Bruce found them later, and had a minor panic attack thinking that Jason had budded like a spore and produced a tiny minion. Upon closer inspection, he recognized Tim, who greeted with him a “Hi Mr. Batman!” leading to another panic attack. 

And that, dear friends, is how Tim Drake managed to become part of the Batfamily, with the only condition that he went home every night at three ‘o clock (a reasonable time for a Gotham boy), barring those nights he was allowed sleepovers. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It started when Jason was lured into a warehouse in Ethiopia by the Joker under the pretense of meeting with his birth mother. As Jason hung from the rafters, bruised, bloodied, and waiting for death by crowbar, he felt a deep sadness that he would never get to bake a cake with Alfred again. 

Meanwhile, the Joker was on his usual diabolical spiel, swinging the crowbar around and threatening the stupid woman who was unfortunately Jason’s birth mother, and also mocking Jason himself on how it looked as though Batman wouldn’t come to save him. 

Honestly, Jason wasn’t too concerned whether Bruce found him or not, because he knew that tonight, he’d promised to go and get ice cream with Dick and Tim, and Dick took Ice Cream Bonding time very seriously. So, he was pretty certain that Dick was barreling towards him right now, fueled by Love and anxiety. 

Jason just hoped that he got here before the bomb went off. 

Within two minutes, Jason’s confidence in Dick’s superhuman clinginess was rewarded as he bust down the door with an almighty shout and proceeded to tear into the Joker, who had foolishly prepared traps for the Batman, but had failed to consider that Nightwing might show up. Well, he was insane for a reason, Jason mused as he watched Dick beat on the clown. 

After the Joker was disposed of, Dick got to work on the bomb. “Nightwing to Babybird, come in. I have a bomb that needs to be defused. Do you have a visual from my mask camera?”

“Babybird receiving,” Tim’s voice crackled over the comms. “I can see the bomb, and it can’t be defused. Get Robin and get out of there.”

“Roger that,” Dick said, and proceeded to slowly undo Jason’s bonds, being mindful of his numerous injuries. Once Jason was safely in Dick’s arms, he looked at the woman tied in the corner. 

“No!” She cried. “Take him and go, there’s no time. This is what I deserve,” she said mournfully. 

Jason stared at the woman who had accepted her fate, and nodded briefly. “Let’s go, Nightwing,” he said brusquely. “And Sheila...” the words choked in his throat. 

“Go, Jason,” she said urgently. “And for what it’s worth...I’m sorry.”

Dick didn’t wait to hear any more. He raced outside with Jason, and had barely made it to a safe distance when he realized, “Oh, we forgot about Joker,” he said, looking down at Jason, as if in askance. 

The brothers stared at each other for a minute, before Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well,” he said. 

A few seconds later, the warehouse went up in a blast and a wall of flames, taking Sheila Haywood and the Joker with it. Dick and Jason watched, still to numb to realize the magnitude of their actions that day. “Uhh...Babybird? Nightwing here. Robin and I are safe, over.”

“Babybird receiveing,” Tim’s relived voice came through. “Thank the bat gods. Now get back home, and hurry. Batman received word of Jason’s abduction, and he’s on his way to the cave from the Watchtower. I texted him that Robin is alright, but he doesn’t know about the Joker.”

“Can you scrub the recording, Babybird?” Jason asked weakly. 

“I’m trying-oh crap, he’s here,” Tim whispered. “Come home quick, I’ll prep the medbay. Babybird out.”

Dick stabilized Jason as best as he could, and put the jet on autopilot so that he could fuss over Jason in the backseat. Several minutes of playing Name The Damaged Organ later, the Batplane landed in the cave, and Jason was taken to the medbay for treatment. 

The last thing he saw before the anasthetic was administered was Bruce’s haunted expression as he held Jason’s hand on the operating table. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The road to recovery was a long and painful one, not counting the emotional pain of Bruce not looking Jason in the eye any more. Dick, bless him, tried to make up for that by doubling his emotional outpouring. It did not seem in the least strange for him to give his teenaged brother a sponge bath. 

“Little wing, its bath time!” Dick trilled, marching in with a tub and a sponge. 

Jason had regained control of his arm, and put it to use by hiking the sheets up to his chin. “Have you no sense of boundaries, Dick?” Jason asked as Dick got busy setting up the bath station for his awkward fifteen year old brother who really didn’t want to be bathed by anyone, much less Dick. 

“But we’re family, Jay,” Dick pouted. “I brought eucalyptus scented bath oil!” 

“Where’s Bruce?” Jason demanded. “Isn’t he supposed to be doing this as my dad?” Dick looked upset and stopped speaking in favour of sponging Jason. “Is he still mad?” Jason asked softly. 

Dick sighed loudly and put the sponge down. “Bruce is a stupid, thickheaded, one dimensional man whose opinions you should not allow to hinder your recovery,” he said fiercely. 

“I can’t believe that he’s more upset about the Joker than about what happened to me,” Jason admitted quietly. Tears stung his eyes, and Jason quickly ducked his head. “How come he doesn’t care about me?”

Dick’s tender heart couldn’t take it anymore, and he flung the sponge aside and enveloped Jason in a hug. “Ack! Get off, Dick! I’m naked here!”

“I’m sorry, Little wing!” Dick cried. “I wish that I could make it better!”

“Yeah,” Jason said wistfully, “but it’s not your fault. I just wish Bruce would say something, anything, to me.”

Dick sniffled and continued sponging, and hoped that his love was strong enough for the both of them. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It wasn’t. 

With Bruce not speaking to Dick or Jason, the younger boy resolved to leave Wayne Manor to undertake training from the best in the world, similar to how Dick had trained as Nightwing. 

We catch up with the Wayne boys now, with Dick tearfully watching Jason pack his bags. “Don’t go, Little wing, you’re just a boy!”

“I had a wet dream two years ago, I’m a man,” Jason snorted. 

Dick continued to sob as Jason threw clothes and weapons into his bag. “At least let me give you the keys to my hideouts,” Dick cried, “and a list of my old teachers. They’ll be glad to have you.”

Jason was touched at Dick’s forethought. “Thanks, Dick,” he said, taking the list from his older brother. “Let’s see - hand to hand training: Midnighter and Apollo. Laser training: Auntie Kate. Sword Training: Lady Shiva. Firearms training: Slade Wilson!?” Jason looked at Dick, who blushed. 

“What?” Dick muttered. “I gave him a call, and he said that he’d take you.”

“I can’t believe that you’re pals with Deathstroke,” Jason said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Midnighter and Apollo?”

“They’re very worldly wise,” Dick said. “They’ll train you in combat and in other...skills. Do not go to them until you’re twenty one!”

“Sure,” Jason grinned cheekily. “Also, Auntie Kate? Batwoman?”

“She’s very good with laser weaponry, and she’d murder you if you didn’t stop by for Hanukkah,” Dick said seriously. 

Jason couldn’t hold back, and hugged Dick. “Thanks,” he mumbled into Dick’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dickhead. I owe you one.”

This prompted another flood of tears from Dick. “I’ll come by and visit, Little wing! Promise that you’ll call me or Tim or Alfie every week to check in!”

“Yeah,” Jason said gruffly, wiping his face on Dick’s shirt. “I’d better get going,” he said quietly. 

“I packed you something for your journey,” Dick said, eagerly brandishing a brown paper bag. Jason peered inside it and looked at Dick incredulously. 

“These are jam sandwiches.”

“For the bus ride to Jump City!”

“Master Jason,” Alfred announced himself, “I have something for you as well.” He handed Jason a leather bound book that looked pretty ancient. “It is a book of my recipes,” he said. “This book has been handed down for generations, Pennyworth to Pennyworth. When you make these meals, I trust that you will be reminded of home.”

Jason took the book reverently and looked at Alfred with determination etched into his features. “Alfred,” he vowed, “I swear to you, that when I return, I’ll be able to make a beef wellington that has a flaky crust and a juicy and well seasoned center.”

“I can wish for nothing more, my boy,” Alfred said tightly, his emotion getting the better of him. “I, too, have enclosed the name of the training centre where I received my culinary skills,” he said handing over a card.

Jason read the name on the card and gaped. “Le Cordon Bleu?”

“Indeed.”

Jason pocketed the card and strode towards the door. As he made his way across the lawn, he reached into the hedge and yanked a conclealed Tim out. 

“You take care of Dick and Alfie, y’hear?” Jason said. “And Bruce. Take care of yourself too, Timbo.”

Tim nodded vigorously. “I’ll miss you, Jay,” he whispered sadly. “I got you something.”

“Aw, Timmers, you don’t have to- oh,” Jason breathed in wonder, as Tim produced a forst edition copy of Jane Eyre.

“When we first met, we argued about the Bronte sisters,” Tim reminded him. “I thought it would be fitting.”

Jason took the book, the power of speech having abandoned him. “I-I, Ti- Tim-“

“Bye, Jason,” Tim said sadly. “I’ll take care of Gotham for you.”

“You take of yourself first, kid,” Jason chided him gently. “Goodbye, little gremlin.”

With that, Jason left Wayne Manor, and a part of his heart behind him as he ventured out into the wide world. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Two weeks later, Wayne Manor...

“What do you mean, Jason left!?”

Dick glared at Bruce, who now resembled a bull ready to charge. 

“I mean that Jason left the house to travel and train,” Dick retorted. 

“He’s fifteen!”

“He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”

“How could you be so stupid!?” Bruce thundered. “He just survived a near death experience! He can’t take care of himself in his fragile state!”

“He wouldn’t have left if you’d told him that!” Dick yelled back. “You were behaving like a douche, trying to punish him for something that wasn’t his fault! News flash, Bruce: Nobody cares that Joker’s dead! I don’t care that Joker’s dead! I care more about my brother, your son, who was almost his goddamn victim!”

“Yeah, you’re pretty dumb,” Tim agreed from beside Dick. “A big dummy.”

“Indeed,” Alfred chimed in. “Master Jason has every right to be upset with your pigheaded attitude, Master Bruce,” he chastised him, “and you will have to truly work hard to regain his trust. The boy does not possess Master Richard’s forgiving disposition, and rightfully so.”

It seemed that all was in vain, however, as Bruce stalked out of the house with the single minded focus on getting his wayward son back home to give him a lecture on the Nature of Justice. 

“Bruce is going to mess up again, isn’t he?” Tim asked quietly. 

Alfred sighed heavily. “Undoubtedly so, young sir. We will have to rally around Master Jason during the inevitable fallout.”

“I’ll get the blankets and ice cream,” Dick said. “Timmy, you get some popcorn and meet me at my apartment. We’re going to comfort Jay whether he wants it or not.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“So, you really didn’t tap that?” 

Slade looked dryly at Jason. “If by ‘that’, you mean your brother, then no, I did not ‘tap that’.”

“So how come you’re so chummy with him?” Jason asked. 

Slade rolled his eye. “Is it impossible for you to contemplate a relationship that is founded upon mutual respect and fondness and that does not involve sex?”

“Sure,” Jason said, “I don’t have sex with Dick either. But everyone always thought that you two banged.”

“Why did I agree to train you again?” Slade sighed. 

“Something about ‘mutual respect and fondness’ giving you a call,” Jason said cheekily. “Hey, cool gun.”

Slade looked pleased. “Thank you. You’re not a bad shot, you know. Not as good as Dick...” he said wistfully. 

“I can’t believe that you guys never banged.”

“Crass boy,” Slade snarled, whacking Jason upside the head. “Now take aim again. This time, I want you to shoot the dummy’s left eye.” 

At that moment, the door to Slade’s ultra secret hideout burst open to reveal the Batman. Slade grinned. “Go on, Jason, shoot the dummy.”

“Which one?” Jason asked cheekily, and received a high five from his new mentor. 

“Jason,” Bruce growled, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, now he speaks,” Jason grumbled. “Go away, Buttman.”

“Stop this nonsense and come home this minute!” Bruce thundered. 

“But he is home,” Slade said evilly. 

Bruce shot a batarang at the man. “Stop trying to steal my children!”

“His children, he says! What a lark!” Jason hooted. “Why Deathstroke, did I tell you about the time that I was nearly murdered, and that my father sympathized with my would-be killer?”

“Do go on,” Slade said gregaiously. “But first, I will need popcorn.”

“There will be no popcorn! Jason,” Bruce said, stopping over and grabbing his son by the arm, “you are coming home this minute!”

“No!” Jason said, and proceeded to shoot Bruce in the leg. 

“Plot twist,” Slade murmured appreciatively. 

“I’m not some toy that you can ignore and control, Bruce!” Jason yelled. “I’m a human being, and I was hurt! You hurt me, and guess what? I don’t forgive you!”

“Jason-“

“So we didn’t go back for the Joker. I don’t care that he’s dead! Someone had to do it, because you’re a piss-poor, hypocritical, sanctimonious, pile of poop who’s so single-minded in getting it on with Justice that you can’t see that you’ve fucked up your own kid!”

“Ooh,” Slade breathed theatrically. 

“So I’m not going back, Bruce. Not with you, not for anything,” Jason said firmly. “Come on Slade, let’s go. I was looking forward to shooting that new bazooka.”

“Attaboy,” Slade said. “Come on, son.”

The mentor and his trainee left, leaving behind a father in an imitation furry suit, with only his broken heart and a bullet in his leg as parting gifts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: long ass chapter ahead.

Jason groaned as he dialed his brother’s - elder, that is - number. It was now important to make that distinction because Timbo had gotten orphaned and has been adopted by none other than Bruce I-have-a-compulsive-need-to-adopt-children-who-have-black-hair-and-blue-eyes-just-like-me Wayne. 

Bruce’s middle name is actually Thomas. 

At any rate, we now find our gentle hero dreading the phone call to his elder brother, whose powers of squee were legendary. All too soon, the call was picked up.

“Hey Dick.”

“Hiiiiii Jaybiiiird!”

Ugh.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Jay! I hope you’re staying warm this time of the year!”

Jason looked up at the glaring sunlight and the vast expanse of desert before him. “Um, yeah. Actually, I was calling to say that I’m coming to Gotham-“

“Yay!”

“-and I have a, er, guest.”

“Oh! Is it a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Ooh, did you get a puppy?”

Jason looked down at the squirming sack spitting abuses at him in Arabic. “Um...kinda. It’s a gift. For Bruce.”

“Little wing, please don’t shoot him again,” Dick pleaded. “Bruce complained for a whole month after the last time.”

“Well, he deserved it,” Jason said staunchly. 

“Alright,” Dick said. “I’m just glad you’re coming back home after four years, Little wing. It’s not the same talking to you over video call, and Timmy never had a chance to know you as his big brother. I want to see the man that you’ve become.” he said, with surprising emotional maturity. 

“Yeah,”Jason grinned. Tim was his best friend, and he’d missed his study sessions and noogies with his favorite babybird. He’d missed Dick’s warm hugs and his seemingly never ending well of pure Love. He’d missed Alfred’s quiet, measured, affection and gentle guidance.

Hell, he’d missed Bruce. 

He missed his family.

“Um, Dick?”

“Yes, Jay?”

“You’d better set another plate for dinner.”

“Okay, Jay! Come home soon! I love you!”

Jason shook his head and cut the call. He turned the phone to selfie mode and clicked a picture before sending it to Tim. Within a minute, his phone pinged with a reply. 

>>BABYBIRD: the hell. why r u in the desert

>>JASON: lol of course you’d notice that

>>BABYBIRD: where tf r u

>>JASON: coming home 2 u, bae

>>BABYBIRD: wicked. also don’t call me bae. does B know?

>>JASON: fuck bruce

>>BABYBIRD: he’s our dad

>>JASON: o right. don’t fuck bruce. just...you know what i mean!

>>BABYBIRD: u srsly coming home?

>>JASON: yup :) and i’ve got a surprise

Jason put the phone down to prod the small sack threatening to disembowel him and smiled. Boy, were his family going to be surprised. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The minute Jason set foot in Wayne Manor, he was assaulted by the full power of Dick’s Love in the form of an Exclusive Dick Grayson Family Hug. 

“Jaybird! You’re home!”

“Mmgph,” Jason said into Dick’s chest. Removing his smushed face, Jason got a good look at his eldest brother. Time, like every other entity on Earth, seemed to have a crush on Dick Grayson, and in the four years that Jason had been gone, Dick had only managed to become more handsome.

“Hey Jay.”

“Hey, Timbo,” Jason grinned. “You wanna get in on some of this man love?” Jason asked, gesturing at Dick, who was still plastered to him. 

“Gross,” Tim scoffed, but attached himself to Jason nonetheless. 

Alfred walked in at that moment and upon seeing Jason, smiled widely. “Master Jason,” he said, his voice choked, “what a handsome young man you’ve grown up to be. It is wonderful to have you home again.”

Jason prised Dick off of his chest and ran over to embrace his butler-grandpa. “Alfie! I missed you so much!”

Alfred wiped a tear from his eye. “And I as well. It does my old heart good to see you again.”

The poignant moment was shattered with the force of a thousand rampaging hippos as Bruce stepped into the room. “Jason.”

Everyone held their breath as Jason looked up and spotted his father. A slow grin spread over his face. “Bruce!” he greeted, “Merry Christmas, I got you a present.”

Bruce quickly checked that his body armor was in place. “That’s nice, thank you,” he said cautiously. 

Jason hefted the squirming sack over. “Here you go, B. Just for you, express delivery.”

Bruce jumped in horror. “Is that a person?”

“Let me out!” The sack shouted. “I shall rip your useless head from your fat neck, Todd! How dare you manhandle me in this fashion!”

Dick screamed and rushed open the sack, revealing a tiny boy. Said boy jumped upright and leapt at Jason, the intent to murder clear in his eyes. “How dare you force me to travel in a sack! When my Mother hears about this, she will kill you!”

“Lay off, brat!” Jason cursed, and the boys were engaged in a vicious fight. And god, could the kid fight. 

“A gnome is trying to kill Jason!” Tim gasped. 

“ENOUGH!” Bruce yelled. He yanked the boy off of Jason and held him by the collar. “Who are you, and how dare you attack my son!”

The boy’s eyes widened, and his expression crumpled. Bruce stared in horror as the boy hung his head and stared to sniffle sadly. 

Bruce looked shocked and looked wildly around for help. “I-I, um, please don’t cry?” The boy continued to sniffle, and at a loss, Bruce tossed the boy over to Dick. 

“Hey there,” Dick said softly, “Bruce didn’t mean to yell. He just wanted to know who you were. Although, I understand attacking Jason for putting you in a sack. That was pretty mean.”

The child looked venomously at Jason. “He deserves no less for humiliating me. I, Damian Al Ghul, scion of the House of Al Ghul, stuffed into a sack and made to travel with the hand baggage!”

Bruce stiffened. “Al Ghul? You’re Talia’s son?”

The boy looked at him. “Yes. And you, Bruce Wayne, are my Father.”

Bruce reeled back into Alfred’s arms. “W-Wha-father? Me? You? No!”

The boy’s eyes filled with tears again. “You would recognize an imbecile the likes of Todd as your son, but not I! The shame! Sir,” Damian said, turning to Dick, “kindly fling me out of the window. I have invited shame upon myself!”

Dick looked horrified. “No! No one’s going to fling you anywhere. If you’re Bruce’s son, then we’ll verify it, and then Bruce is going to do his duty-“

Bruce started choking at this point.

“-and we will go forward from there,” Dick said, glaring at his dad. Then he looked down at the boy in his arms. “I bet you’re tired from traveling with the hand luggage. Would you like to get some sleep?”

The boy looked confused at someone other than his Father giving orders. “I- Father-“

“Bruce just needs a moment,” Dick said kindly. “Why don’t we go upstairs, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“I know who all of you are!” Damian said vehemently. “You are Richard Grayson, the Nightwing, and that is Timothy Drake, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Robin, who has usurped my Father’s and my rightful position as heir to my Father’s business empire and the heir to the cowl! I challenge you to single combat to the death!” Damian declared, pointing at a shocked Tim, “The winner will take all! I-“ Damian’s rant was cut off as Dick hefted i’m over his shoulder and gently swayed, patting Damian’s back. “What- what is the meaning of this!?”

“I think that we’re all a little on edge today,” Didk said firmly, “and that we could all use a little rest. Let’s go upstairs to sleep, okay?”

“But I have to enter mortal combat with Drake the Usurper!”

“You can combat Timmy later,” Dick said magnanimously. “Sleep first, then some food, and then we can fight, okay?”

“Unhand me, Grayson! I shall not be man- manhandled-“ Damian broke off into a large yawn, “-in this...this...manner,” he mumbled tiredly. Dick grinned at his dumbfounded father and brothers and continue to bounce Damian rhythmically. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Dick said soothingly, “and you can think of how you’re going to fight Timmy, alright?”

“With...a katana...” Damian mumbled sleepily before drifting off. 

Dick went upstairs with the boy and Alfred, who was fretting about clean sheets and oh, is the mattress springy enough?

Tim looked shocked, and stood up. “I’m going to booby trap my room and zip tie that gremlin to the ceiling,” he seethed. He turned to Bruce and pointed accusingly, “This is what happens when you tap it without wrapping it, Bruce! Somehow, I end up dying!”

“You’re not dying,” Bruce said resolutely before turning on Jason. “Why is Talia Al Ghul’s son in my house?”

“Technically, he’s your son too,” Jason bit back.

After that, the whole story came tumbling out. After training with Slade (grumble), and Midnighter and Apollo (gasp), Jason ended up apprenticing himself to Talia (teeth gnashing). When he was not training or working for the League, Jason’s job was to babysit Talia’s hellspawn, a.k.a. Damian.

When he had first met the boy, Damian was six years old and a complete pain in the ass who bit Jason. Fast forward two years to the present and he was still a pain in the ass who bit Jason as his morning ritual. Then, Talia had come running and told Jason to take Damian to his Father, as R’as Al Ghul was planning to possess Damian’s younger body. 

And that’s when Jason found out that Damian’s father was none other than Bruce oops-I-forgot-the-condom Wayne. 

And now, they were in Wayne Manor, where Bruce was breathing into a paper bag while his long lost son was no doubt being mollycoddled by his eldest son, because Dick Loved Babies. 

“Yo, Timbo, you’d better test the kid’s DNA,” Jason said. “I yanked some of his hairs out on the way here,” he said handing Tim a packet of hair. Tim took them with distaste and waddled off to the lab, leaving Bruce to hyperventilate with only Jason to soothe him. 

Or not. 

“I’m hungry,” Jason said. “I’m gonna get a snack. You want anything, Bruce? Maybe some compassion for one of your sons?”

Bruce glared at Jason. “I didn’t even know about Damian until now,” he said. 

Jason looked blankly at Bruce. “Never mind,” he muttered, and made to turn away, but was held back by Bruce’s meaty hand on his arm. 

“Jay,” he choked out, “Please. I’m so sorry, lad.”

Jason snorted. “What for?”

“For not being there for you. For not saving you sooner from the Joker-“

Jason let out a baffled shout of laughter. “Are you serious? Oh my god, Bruce, you twit! I’m not mad about being beat up and nearly killed! I took that risk every day! I’m mad that you thought that Joker’s life was worth more than mine!”

“No, Jay, never-!”

“You wouldn’t talk to me, or look at me when I was bedridden! You hurt me, Bruce, more than that madman!”

“I’m sorry, Jay, but I couldn’t just-“

“Oh, yeah, it’s all about you and your angst. God, I’m so over this,” Jason said, throwing up his hands. “You know what? I don’t even care.” Lies. Lies. Lies. “I’m going to check on the brat, I have to call Talia.”

Jason stomped upstairs and along the corridor until he reached a guest bedroom, containing Alfred, Dick, and Damian. Damian was snuggled up with Dick’s arm in his vice like grip, slumbering peacefully. 

Jason’s jaw dropped. “What the hell!” He hissed. “I babysat that demonling for two years, and all he ever did was bite my fingers! How come you get the cuddly baby brat!?” Jason whined. 

“He said something about staking a claim or something,” Dick shrugged. “He kept going on about establishing his circle, or harem...”

Jason’s eyes bugged out of his skull. “He’s eight years old! He can’t have a harem! And besides, you’re his brother!”

“Brother harem, then,” Dick shrugged. “I think he just wants something to be his, you know? He has nothing here, it’s a completely new place. He must be feeling petty lonely and scared, and his way of coping is to...be assertive.”

Jason nodded. “It was stake a claim or lose everything, back in the League.”

“That’s pretty messed up, to have child live like that,” Dick said, nuzzling Damian. Damian responded by pouting angrily and grumbling adorably. Jason snarled, causing Dick to look up. 

“Don’t indulge the brat, Dickhead,” He grumbled. 

“I’m not,” Dick said. “I just want to show him that he’s loved and wanted by us.”

“By you,” Jason said. 

“By us,” Dick said, gnashing his teeth menacingly. Jason raised his hands in surrender and glared at the uppity child who had laid claim to Dick. At that moment, Tim walked in through the door.

“This is Bruce’s kid, alright,” he announced, looking distastefully at the sleeping boy. “DNA test came back positive.”

Alfred straightened up. “In honour of Master Jason coming home, and Master Damian entering our family, I will prepare a family meal. There will be no patrol tonight, and I shall inform Miss Gordon to deploy her Birds of Prey instead.”

“What’re you making for desert, Alfie?” Jason asked. 

“Chocolate cake, obviously, Master Jason, with chocolate icing and dark chocolate chunks melted in,” Alfred said indulgently. “Only the best for you, my boy.”

“I’m allergic to chocolate,” Tim muttered.

“Let him eat ice cream,” Jason declared archly. 

“Timmy is lactose intolerant,” Dick fretted, causing Jason to snort in amusement at Tim’s misfortune. 

“Bread and sugar?” Jason suggested evilly. 

“Fruit sorbet and a Lactaid for Master Tim,” Alfred said sternly. Tim gave Alfred a watery smile, which was returned fondly. Alfred left afterwards, leaving the three, now four, brothers alone. After a few sickening moments of watching Dick card his fingers through a sleeping Damian’s hair, Jason turned to Tim to catch up with his best friend. 

“So, Timbo,” Jason said, slinging an arm around the smaller boy, “how’s being Robin treating you?”

Jason listened as Tim animatedly described his array of gadgets and inventions that he used in the field, and was touched when he offered to outfit Jason with his own customized weaponry. 

“Aw, thanks,” Jason said, “but I had my own kit. Besides, I don’t think Bruce would want you near my, um, gadgets.”

“Why not?” Tim asked.

Jason looked hesitantly at Dick before opening up the side of his jacket. Holstered inside it were numerous firearms, blow darts, tranqilizers, and ammunition. So much ammunition. 

“Little wing!” Dick gasped. 

“Oh, wow,” Tim said slowly, “Bruce is going to be so pissed.”

“Guns are quick and efficient,” Jason staunchly defending his preferred choice of weapon. “No need to faff about with projectiles and non-lethal bullshit. I don’t care about saving the criminals, only their victims. I’m going to do what’s necessary.”

“You’re going to kill people, Little wing?” Dick asked, his eyes wide and watery. 

Jason stuttered to a halt with his tirade. Crying Dick always made him feel guilty. “I...I...yeah?”

Tim looked shrewdly at Jason. “You know, those guns look eerily like the ones a masked hitman used to slaughter the heads of the Falcone, Marinara, and Batali drug families,” he said. “Anything you want to say, Jay?”

Jason cringed at Dick’s gasp and the sight of big, fat, tears leaking from his eyes. “It wasn’t a mask, it was a hood!”

“A hood,” Tim repeated monotonously. “A flaming red colored full face hood.”

“Well it sounds lame when you say it like that,” Jason whined. “I’m just called the Red Hood.”

Tim shrugged, nodding. “That does sound better.”

“Jason,” Dick breathed, his fat, pearly, tears dripping down onto a disturbed Damian, “you’ve killed twelve people already.”

“And that’s twelve less scum to extort the people in Crime Alley,” Jason pressed. “Just yesterday, I broke up a child trafficking ring set up by the Falcone family. Seven kids, Dick. Seven kids just like Damian got to go home that night to their worried parents without worrying about being kidnapped again.”

Dick sniffed and looked down at Damian before looking back up at Jason. “But what about your soul, Little wing?” Dick asked, his eyes wide and beseeching. “What’s it going to do to your soul whenever you kill another person?”

Jason sat down next to Dick and gently put an arm around his shoulders. “Well, you’ll have to pray extra hard for me, won’t you?” He asked with a lopsided grin. 

Dick started to cry in earnest, waking Damian as the crystalline tears hit his face. He stirred awake and took in the scene before him and proceeded to completely misunderstand the situation. 

“Todd! You have made my harem leader cry! Prepare to die!”

Jason squeaked and toppled over as Damian rammed into him. “Get off, you demon brat! You don’t have a harem! Dick is your brother!”

“Silence, pond scum!”

Dick sighed and lifted Damian up and off fo Jason. “Damian, Jason wasn’t making me cry. I was worried about him, that’s all,” he explained. 

“Todd is not worthy of concern,” Damian said. “You should focus on me, and building our empire!”

“Oh my god, he’s a tiny megalomaniac!” Tim cried as he helped Jason off of the floor. “A tiny megalomaniac that’s coveting our older brother!”

“Cease your drivel, Drake! And do not think that I have forgotten about our duel! I shall defeat you and exile you to live a life of humiliation!”

“Dinner now, duel later,” Dick said firmly, lifting Damian onto his lap. “And why do you hate Tim? He’s done nothing to you, and he’s your brother. By that measure, you should hate me too.”

Damian grumbled and hunkered down adorably, his head retreating so that his neck disappeared like a turtle. “You were the first Robin, the founder of the role. Your presence made Father a better fighter, and you taught him to be a better parent as well. Your goals to avenge your parents were noble and the fact you achieved your goals as a child is admirable. Drake,” Damian spat, glaring at Tim, “took the role dishonorably after Todd left, by forcing his presence on Father. Then he proceeded to take his place as CEO of Wayne Enterprises! Both roles were mine by birthright!”

“Technically, Robin would be the birthright of Dick’s kids, seeing as he founded the role,” Jason piped up. He paid for his intrusion with a kick to his shin before Dick got hold of Damian again. 

“Bruce split the inheritance with me too,” he pointed out, “shouldn’t you hate me for that?”

At this, Damian blushed and retreated physically into Dick’s chest, muttering incoherent words such as nice and hugs and soft.

“Oh my god, demon baby has a crush on Dick! You little perv, he’s your older brother!” Jason cried.

“Stopper your noise hole, Todd! Of course I am aware of Grayson’s relation to me! I would never act dishonorably! That being said,” Damian added, looking up slyly at Dick, “would you still like to be a part of my Brother Harem?”

“I’d be honored, Dami,” Dick grinned sincerely, eliciting another blush from Damian. “What about Jay and Tim? They’re our brothers too, you know, and they’re both strong, and smart, and caring. Jay babysat you for two years, didn’t he?”

“He did nothing of the sort! He made me go to bed at six ‘o clock at night and when I wouldn’t, he planted his large arse on me to force me into submission!”

Dick stared grimly at Jason. “You sat on a child? Oh, Jay,” he bemoaned his brother, shaking his head.

“Hey! He wasn’t the angel child that he is with you when he was with me!” Jason countered. “He fights dirty! He bites, kicks, punches, and once he set up metal trip wire to decapitate me!”

“Still, you sat on your little brother. For shame, Little wing,” Dick stressed. Then he turned to Damian and said, “Killing Jason is not the answer, Dami. He still showed up to take care of you, right? That means that deep down, he loves you.”

“Ew! No!”

“Tt.”

“As for Tim, he was a part of the Batfamily since way before Jason left. He was our communications and intel director, operating under the name Babybird. He only took over Robin because he saw that Bruce was lonely and getting out of control in the field without a sidekick. He saved your dad too, in his own way.”

Damian seemed to consider this, and then nodded. Dick beamed. “So what do you say? Can Timmy join the harem?”

“I suppose,” Damian pouted. “But he will forever be your subordinate! And Todd is too ugly to join!”

“Does that mean that he thinks Tim is pretty?” Jason whispered evilly, while Tim gagged. 

“Drake is slender boned and delicate like a geisha. You would have to be a fool to not notice,” Damian retorted, as Tim dissolved into a puddle of horror and objectification. Bruce chose that moment to enter the room and saw Tim puddled on the floor with Jason, who was nursing a rapidly bruising shin, while Dick sat on the bed with Damian balanced on his lap, looking like a tiny emperor on his throne. 

“What’s going on?” Bruce asked, carefully peeling Tim off of the floor like a rubber chicken. 

“Your son is an incestuous pervert, Bruce,” Tim groaned.

Bruce glared and barked, “Jason!”

“Not me, you prejudiced dweeb!” Jason yelled. “God, that is so like you to just pin the blame on me!”

Bruce looked around until his eyes landed on Damian, who grinned up at him. “I have made Grayson the head of my brother harem,” Damian said. “Drake is his subordinate. Todd is not included because he made me go to bed at six pm and sat on me.”

“That’s...nice,” Bruce said slowly. At least no one was killing each other. Parenting win, Bruce thought proudly to himself, taking credit for Dick’s hard work. “Alfred’s made dinner. Why don’t we all go down?”

Bruce hefted a still limp Tim over his shoulder where he hung like several layers of chicken skin, made more believable because of their shared coloration. Dick set Damian down and the boy ran to open the door, while Dick helped Jason up off the floor. Jason took Dick’s hand and got off the floor, but in the process, a gun came loose from its holster and fell to the floor with a clatter. 

Silence descended in the room as everyone looked either at the gun, or at Bruce. Then-

“JASON TODD WAYNE!”

“I’m out,” Jason said, opening a window and throwing a leg out. “Yeet.”

Bruce surged forward and grabbed Jason and hurled him back inside for the chewing out of a lifetime. “Explain this, Jason! How dare you bring a gun into this house!”

“It’s my weapon! I’m a firearms expert!” Jason bit out, shaking himself out of Bruce’s grip. “That’s what I trained in for four years. Firearms and projectiles.”

Bruce dismantled the gun and watched the bullets cascade out. “Real bullets,” he gritted out. “You’ve discharged the gun,” he noted, counting the bullets. 

Jason lifted his chin defiantly. “Yeah, I have.”

Bruce studied Jason’s stance and then looked at the weapon before recognition hit him. “You took out the Falcone family. The Gotham Gunman.”

“I prefer to be called the Red Hood,” Jason said. 

“Well, I prefer to call you grounded,” Bruce replied. “Hand over your firearms.”

Jason proceeded to tell Bruce to do something inappropriate regarding his fingers in the vicinity of his bottom.

“Guys!” Dick snapped, looking meaningfully at Damian, who was still by the door, watching the interaction with wide eyes. 

“Go,” Bruce said brusquely to Damian who flinched. His lip began to wobble before he burst out in Arabic,

“Baba hates me!” 

Damian continued to sob loudly as Dick lifted him into his arms and spoke soothingly to him. “Baba doesn’t w-want me!” Damian wept in Arabic. “Grandfather wants to possess me, Mama sent me away, and Baba doesn’t want me!” 

Dick quickly carried Damian away, leaving a stunned Bruce, Jason, and semi-asleep Tim behind. Bruce’s arms hung limply at his sides following Damian’s tearful breakdown, and Tim slowly slid from his perch where he hung from Bruce’s shoulders onto the floor, where he lay like a decaffeinated rag doll. 

Bruce scarcely had time to make sense of Damian’s emotional outburst when a large fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling. Bruce blinked the bright dots dancing in his eyes away to see a seething Jason looming over him.

“How could you, Bruce!?” Jason thundered. “He’s your son! I didn’t spend two years of my life babysitting him and risking my life to bring him home to have you reject him! Do you know how many people - complete strangers - have died to protect that kid? I’ve seen Talia’s assassins literally throw themselves on R’as Al Ghul’s blade to give me time to escape with Damian, and for what? For his own dad to reject him?

“He’s a little boy, Bruce,” Jason stressed, “a little boy whose lost everything, whose mother may well die trying to protect him from her own dad, and he is stranded in an unknown place. All he wants is to have a home.”

Bruce was stunned at Jason’s passionate defense of Damian. “Jason, I didn’t mean-“

“Get your act together, Bruce. Until you don’t, don’t expect to see me around the cave. C’mon, Tim,” Jason said forcefully, and grabbed Tim’s ankle and proceeded to drag the limp boy imitating a wet blanket out of the room.

Bruce quickly got to his feet and followed Jason into the hall, where Alfred had Damian balanced on his hip as the little boy bawled in Arabic. “Baba hates me! He’s going to send me away!”

“Fix this,” Dick hissed at Bruce, clawing at his arm. 

“I shall leave and never return!” Damian continued to sob. “I shall take my harem with me and return to the sands of the Middle East!”

“Damian,” Bruce sighed, causing the boy to stop crying and look up. Bruce’s heart broke at the sight of tears falling from his wide, green, eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. I don’t want you to go away, I was just telling you to go out of the room because I was going to chew Jason out.”

“Truly?” Damian sniffled. 

“Yes,” Bruce said, “truly. I was upset at Jason for using guns, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Damian said thickly. “You don’t hate me?”

“No, Damian, I don’t hate you. You’re my son,” Bruce said softly. 

At Bruce’s words, Damian lit up. “I am! I swear that I will make you proud, Father! I shall fight at your side and defeat your enemies once and for all!”

Bruce choked on air. “We don’t kill, Damian.”

“Todd does,” Damian pointed out innocently. “He kills lots and lots of people. But mama says that it’s alright so long as either she or you say so.”

“It’s never alright, Damian,” Bruce lectured his son, “and Jason’s in big trouble once I get my hands on him,” he threatened. 

“Hey! I brought your long lost son back to you!” Jason yelled. “Show me some gratitude!”

“Thank you,” Bruce said shortly. “You’re grounded for a month and I’m taking away your bullets.”

“Bite me, Buttman,” Jason said irreverently. 

“You can use rubber bullets, Jay,” Dick tried to compromise. “It’ll put people out of commission, but it won’t kill them.”

“Or I can design you new bullets,” Tim suggested rapidly. “All new tranquilizer formulae, rubber bullets with serrated edges for maximum discomfort, laxative laced tranquilizer bullets for immediate pants shittage...”

The family looked at Tim with varying degrees of horror as the boy expanded his list eagerly, practically salivating with ideas. Damian narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Can you really make laxative bullets?”

“Of course,” Tim said. “I already have the design. I just needed a reason, and you, my dear Jason,” he said turning to his older brother with adoring eyes, “you are my muse. My reason for innovation.”

“Perfectly poetic, Master Timothy,” Alfred praised. 

“Can I have serrated bullets?” Damian asked.

“Sure.”

“NO,” Bruce thundered, whisking Damian away, “no one is getting bullets!”

“Together, Jay, we will make the finest firearms this world has ever seen,” Tim breathed, latching onto Jason’s arm. 

“Calm your titties, Timbo,” Jason said good naturedly, “your own little gun is on a hair trigger,” he said, looking down meaningfully at Tim’s tech-induced boner. And what a boner it was.

“Be right back,” Tim said, waddling away to take care of his (very large) problem. 

“What did Drake have in his pants?” Damian asked, having migrated from Bruce’s arms back to Dick’s. “Is it a weapon?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jason chortled. “It’s a weapon alright. A brand-new, completely unused weapon.”

“There’s nothing wrong with saving yourself for The One, Jay,” Dick said sagely. 

“Pffft. Like you did? Hypocrite.”

“Wally and I are meant to be together,” Dick said soppily. “He’s my soul mate, and we’re going to get married and live happily ever after.”

“You’re not marrying that freckled, ginger, disaster of a boy until I deem him to be fit for you,” Bruce said, channeling his inner aristocrat. “I’ve seen his savings account, and it gave me nightmares. He needs to have at least thirty million dollars in savings before he can even be considered.”

“I’ll elope,” Dick said, “and Dami will be my best little man.”

“I’ll find you,” Bruce replied, “and I’ll lock you away in the east tower. And speaking of locking away...” Bruce glared at Jason who was unrepentantly tucking into a plate of green beans. 

“Do eat your dinner, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “I did not slave away over a hot stove for you to threaten your children at the dinner table.”

Bruce grumbled, but did as he was told. All around him, his children laughed and talked loudly over one another, and the occasional pea was thrown. And then suddenly, Bruce just couldn’t be angry any more. 

After all, it was very hard to stay mad when your youngest was fuming at the very concept of mashed potatoes, calling the dish a pale, unseasoned, hummus betrayal. 

Bruce helped himself to some of said betrayal, and settled into his chair, with his dinner, surrounded by his children, and found himself thinking that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.


End file.
